Illusions
by secretstar
Summary: Future. Literati. "He wishes for a happily ever after, but never gets it." [one-shot, complete]


_Notes_: RoryJess. Kinda. Future fic. One shot. 

_Disclaimer_: I own not, you sue not. Lyrics are by Brand New, "The No Seatbelt Song" 

_Thanks & Dedications_: Thanks to Lydia for beta-ing for me, and for Elise who helped. Who always helps. [hug] Thanks darlin', if it weren't for you ... I'd never post. And for Lia, Ari, and Lee. Oh, and Chris. Just because. 

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It's only you, _beautiful_.   
If I can choose, it's only you. 

Or I don't want anyone (do you understand?) 

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Smooth and pale is her skin, her face doesn't matter. In the night, everything looks the same anyway. He touches, roams, and explores. It is new territory. It's a new face.

He's never been so lost.

He wants the girl with the chestnut hair and the pair of bluebells. He wants her breathy sigh and the way she says his name. _Jess_. She whispers it in his ear. _Jess_. She screams it out loud. _Jess_.

He bends to kiss her, and whisper into her lips. _Rory_.

But it's not her.

It's flavorless and stale.

_It's all an illusion._

The faceless girl moans, and he thinks that he should just get it over with.

So he does.

It's nothing new. This isn't the beginning of something beautiful.

This story has no beginning, it doesn't deserve one. It does nowhere and does nothing.

_It's just sex. _

There is no need for dialogue or a plot.

_It's a dead end. _

Night passes and morning comes. He leaves the minute the sun came up and shined on her face. The sunlight shows her imperfections and he doesn't like it. He doesn't want to see her face. Shallow? Maybe. Sensible? In his mind, yes.

He prefers to keep things simple, and the night keeps it that way.

Simple. Free of complications.

It's all a lie.

But he's okay with lying to himself.

He continues his walk, and passes by her apartment even though it's out of the way. He walks up to the door, rings the doorbell, and waits. And waits. And waits. Maybe she's not home.

Sighing, he turns, but stops when she hears his name.

"Jess?"

His name is beautiful and glorious on her lips. He wants her to say it again. _Jess_. Just once more. _Jess_. He wants her to scream, but knows it is a foolish thing to ask.

"Jess?" she sighs, and then pulls the door open further. "Why don't you come in?"

He turns and does what he is asked of. Once inside, he hears the door slam behind him. Its sound echoes throughout the room, and he is suddenly grateful for it. They're alone.

She walks past him, but stops when she sees his cheek.

He sees her gulp and then reaches out to wipe away the lipstick. She studies its stain on her fingertips, and he thinks that she knows it to be a cheap brand. She rubs her fingers together and the red fades away.

Still silent, she goes to the counter to retrieve her coffee and brings back a second mug. It's for him, he knows. She must have known he'd be over this morning, and he makes a mental note to check his caller ID when he gets home. He knows she probably called.

She hands him the coffee, sips her own, and asks. "So, how was it?"

He drinks his too fast and the question burns his tongue. Gulping, he takes down the bitter flavor and replies back. "Old."

She nods and turns toward the window. Sighing, she breathes out, "Jess …"

_It's beautiful and glorious on her lips. _

"… why didn't you come to the rehearsal dinner?"

It's a fair question, he knows, but he doesn't want to answer it even though he has a million reasons. So instead, he shrugs, and goes back to his coffee. It's still bitter because she hadn't bothered to put in any cream and sugar.

He thinks he probably deserves more than this.

_Because I don't like dinner parties._

_Because the food will probably be lame._

_Because I hate how formal it is._

_Because I hate him. Repeat this three times more._

_Because I hate this. Repeat this until you get the point. _

_Because I can't bear to see you with him. _

_Repeat, repeat, repeat._

"Because," he says simply and leaves it at that.

Unfortunately, she is not satisfied with his answer. "Because why?"

"Because."

"Why?."

He knows that she can go on forever like this, and he doesn't have the strength for it today. He doesn't have the strength for this anymore. He figures he should just tell the truth. This is what friends do, they tell the truth.

And they're friends, even though it drives him to no ends.

Not friends with benefits. Just friends. Just Rory and just Jess. It's not RoryJess anymore.

Somewhere along the way, it was separated and he can't find the glue to stick it back together. So every day, he looks at the shattered pieces of RoryJess on the ground and wonders which of them was the culprit behind the crime.

He breathes in.

"Because I still love you."

He hears her intake of breath and closes his eyes.

"Jess, I … I can't."

He breathes out.

"I know," he says in a defeated voice. He's fought the battle before, so he already knows the outcome. He will be a wounded soldier with his heart cut out. It's the same outcome every time he fights it, but he naively thinks (every time) that he might come out on top.

Deep inside, he deludes himself into believing (every time) that this wasn't a Shakespearean tragedy but a classic fairy tale. He wishes for a happily ever after, but never gets it.

He will never get the girl.

He'll either end up alone or with a faceless girl he doesn't give a damn about.

It's an old story.

It's an old battle.

It's an old need.

_He wants only her. _

He finishes his coffee and leaves without another word. She doesn't stop him.

He goes home, climbs into bed, but sleep is nowhere to be found because of the date that she'd circled with a red marker on his calendar. It's _tomorrow_.

He twists himself into knots and shuts his eyes.

It's still morning, but he stays in bed for the rest of the day.

Night eventually passes and morning comes, the sunlight glaring into his window.

It's _tomorrow_.

He hears the telephone ring but he doesn't bother to pick it up.

He knows it's her.

Instead, he puts the pillow to his ear and tries to block it out.

Ring, ring, ring.

Silence.

He breathes in.

It doesn't ring anymore.

He breathes out.

_Tomorrow_ passes and the day after comes.

_Day after day, week after week, month after month. _

The telephone remains silent.

She doesn't call anymore.


End file.
